Butterfly
by MilaDance
Summary: Takes place after 5x17… just mindless Dair fluff! Was going to be a one shot- has turned into a 3 parter though!
1. Chapter 1

Butterfly

Takes place after 5x17… just mindless Dair fluff!

"_Happiness is a butterfly, which when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you__" Nathaniel Hawthorne_

The light is soft, creeping in through the spaces between the curtains, a slim sunny streak running across the bed at the height of their thighs, the rest of the room still dark enough to feel intimate; her favorite time of day. She looks at him, his hair out of control on the pillow (he is a week or so away from Sideshow Bob status), his face content in REM, his closed eyes moving occasionally in dreams. For a split second she hopes that those dreams include her, that they star her as the main character, then quickly rejects that idea for being too girly and downright idiotic. She smiles a little at him, he is handsome asleep, not that she would tell him, he is pretty conceited as it is, and her hand itches to touch his stubbly cheek, to trace his nose and lips with her fingers, but she stops herself. He is not her first boyfriend and not the first boyfriend she watched sleeping, there is something in sleeping men, a certain vulnerability she enjoys. He is different from Chuck in that sense, he is more likely to let himself be vulnerable when awake, less dramatic and less "epic", so that she doesn't need these moments to erase the epicness and see the man underneath it all. Dan is still Dan, awake as well as asleep, but she enjoys it nonetheless. He makes these enamoured eyes at her, when he thinks she isn't looking, and sometimes even when she is, and she just does not feel comfortable with him seeing her look at him that way. It is like relinquishing power and if there is one thing she learnt in her years on and off with Chuck it is that power is of the utmost essence in a relationship. Whoever has the power, is the one least hurt when everything falls apart. So she doesn't allow herself to look at him this way, to let her eyes give her away… but when he is asleep, he doesn't know how she looks at him, can't see her face give away how much he really means to her. And so she doesn't mind waking up at the crack of dawn and letting herself bask in this new love.

It is the third night she has slept over, not in a row of course, and they have not yet slept with each other (in the biblical sense). Not for a lack of wanting though, it just didn't happen. The first night he wanted to take it slow ("Humphrey, you are such a girl!" she'd said, but enjoyed just exploring each other slowly, carefully, to be honest, not that she would ever admit it to him), the second night a few days later she needed to talk more than she needed sex and they spent the night doing just that, talking until dawn, and yesterday, when she came over as a surprise visit after spending the evening with her family they were both hyperaware of the fact that Rufus and Lily were just a thin wall (or rather a thin garage door) away. So they just cuddled. She is starting to hate that word. Cuddle. Ugh. By now it is pretty much a synonym of "sexually frustrated", she thinks and moves a little to cuddle up closer.

His arm adjusts and holds her tightly against him, a slow smile spreading on his face as awareness reaches him. She bites her lower lip to stop herself from grinning too widely at his sleepy smile and finally allows her hand to reach up and softly touch his lips. He purses them and kisses her fingertips then turns his face down to face hers, opens one eye just a little and whispers, his raspy voice breaking the silence. "Mornin'. You are still here." "Where would I be?" she whispers back, letting one hand reach into his hair and twirling a curl around one of her fingers. He shakes his head a little. "Still surprises me… you… here, in Brooklyn." She rolls her eyes and with a smile playing around her lips answers "Well, it is not by choice, Humphrey. These sheets alone make me feel like running! But the upper east side has Serena in it, and she might say she is ok with _this_ but I am sure she doesn't want to witness it first hand. So…" "So if you want to be with me, you have to stay here overnight?" he says smirking and she grumbles "Don't feel so special", then props herself up on her elbows and puts her lips softly to his.

He kisses back for a few moments but then sits up abruptly, making her fall sideways off him, pouting in disappointment. "Sorry Blair, without coffee and a waffle I am utterly useless in the morning. Plus, morning breath! My toothbrush is calling." She sighs, but is a little hungry herself (she has after all been awake for quite some time by now), and a waffle and coffee do sound appealing, so she watches him put on jeans and a t shirt and try to flatten the "fro", before leaving the room with a last look and half-smile thrown her way, then sits up and scans the room for her clothes. The ball gown she was wearing yesterday when she came over after going to the opera with her mother does not feel quite appropriate for a Brooklyn breakfast, so she grabs one of his shirts (plaid, why is everything he owns plaid?) and listens intently at the door. No noise coming from the living-kitchen area, Lily and Rufus must be out, in which case her black underwear and a sexy (haha, not) half undone flannel shirt down to her thighs, will be more than enough clothing. It may even lead to that long awaited sex, if she plays her cards right, she thinks, and undoes one the top button, exposing some décolletage. She combs through her hair with her fingers to get it more into "carefully disarranged" and less "grubby and unruly", then leaves the room, and rushes to the bathroom. She washes her face and then after a few moments of back and forth decides to use his toothbrush, which is still dripping. They share kisses all the time, this is not all that different, she tries to convince herself, while trying not to gag at the idea of that filthy thing touching her teeth. Once she looks a little less disheveled (though painfully plain, with no make-up and no hairbrush anywhere in this damn bathroom), she goes into the kitchen where he is brewing coffee, and his eyes pop a little when he sees her, half naked standing in his kitchen. She still feels a little funny (and very special) when he gets this look, like she is the most incredible sight ever, and so to cover that she gives him a little twirl and tells him "latest fashion, flannel chic!"

He grins, leaves the coffee alone and comes over, kisses her, carefully first, then more and more passionately and lifts her onto the work surface, which is cold on her bottom and makes her shudder slightly. On second thought, the taste of him makes her shudder even harder. "Ugh, orange juice and toothpaste… terrible, Humphrey" she exclaims moving her face sideways, so that his next kiss turns into a smudge across her cheek and ends by her ear. He whispers his apology into it and softly bites into her earlobe, and almost as if they were moving on their own accord her legs cross behind his back and pull him closer, her hands bury themselves in that terrible hair of his and he gives a small moan, which quickly turns into a groan when the door opens and Rufus and Lily walk in and stay by the door, looking surprised.

"Good morning, Dan. Blair." Rufus chirps, cheerful as ever and she pushes Dan back, hops off the surface and pulls the shirt down, in the hope of covering more than just the top 2 inches of her thighs with it. "Morning," she says in a small voice and Dan adds "We were not expecting you back this early." Lily clears her throat and says "well, that was very obvious, Dan." Feeling the heat rise in her face, Blair rushes past them and into Dan's room, where she lets herself fall face forward onto the bed, shaking softly; he follows her and sits down right next to her, pats her back and says in a soft voice "Don't be upset. We weren't really doing anything." She turns around, till she lies on her back and keeps convulsing in laughter. When he realizes she wasn't crying, but laughing he joins her, lets himself fall back and lies next to her and both laugh so hard tears are rolling down their faces.

"Most embarrassing moment ever. In my entire life! And I had a church full of royals and paparazzi listen to me proclaim my love for someone else while at the altar!" she manages to say between bouts of hysterical laughter. He turns over to his side, wipes the tears from her cheeks and says quietly "to think we didn't… do anything yesterday because we thought they might hear" he grins widely "and now they have seen us trying to do it on your kitchen counter, next to the waffle iron" she ends his sentence and they both laugh hard again, hard enough to make her feel a little lightheaded and to make her abs hurt. Harder than she can ever remember laughing.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you so much for the reviews. There are few things that make me happier than one of the notification emails letting me know someone added the story to their favourites, that someone commented on it and enjoyed it. Thank you, thank you, thank you!**

Chapter 2

Once they are all laughed out they establish that she cannot go back into the kitchen in her underwear and that her ball gown is not comfortable for a lazy Saturday morning breakfast ("Humphrey, lazy Saturday morning at 8.30 am? Honestly, your kind knows nothing!" "My kind? You mean early risers? The early bird gets the..." "No" she interrupts. "Proletarians!" "Oh yes, Waldorf, Lily Rhodes van der Woodsen Bass... the typical proletarian." "Hmph... shut up, Humphrey!") and so he starts rummaging through stuff in his closet. "What are you hoping to find? I categorically refuse to wear any clothes from your prepubescent times, Humphrey!" He looks over his shoulder in her direction with an eye roll and a sigh and then, a few seconds later, comes out of the closet with a triumphant smile. "I knew she had left them here. I present you, jeans and a t shirt. Barely used!" Blair looks at the clothes, a regular pair of blue jeans and a white tank top, and wrinkles her nose. "Which one of your old flames did that stunning outfit belong to? Definitely not Serena, she would die rather than wear this." "And also need to shrink the odd 5 inches!" he points out. "No flame of mine, they used to be Jenny's." Before Blair can start complaining (and she definitely is going to complain, in fact she has an entire diatribe in her head, dying to get out, explaining to Humphrey why it is absolutely ridiculous to even think that she would possibly wear anything that little monster he calls sister has ever worn, much less bought) he grabs the yellow, fluffy gown with his left hand and holds both outfits up. "Princess gown, naked in front of my father and stepmother or clean jeans my sister may have worn 5 years ago?" and Blair rolls her eyes violently and grabs the jeans and top.  
>Once she is wearing it (the clothes fit and lead to a whole round of new insecurities in Blair's head, does she have the same body as Jenny Humphrey? She always saw herself as petite, yet somewhat curvy, not stick thin, is she too thin? Does she really have the body of a 11 year old boy?), he hands her the flannel shirt back with a sheepish grin and does the buttons up ("not half as much fun as undoing them"), they have breakfast with Rufus and Lily and she even manages to stop blushing furiously about halfway into it and then afterwards Dan says, he is going to take her out on a Brooklyn day. She says it sounds like the worst plan ever, but whatever. Secretly however, a day in Brooklyn sounds more than perfect. A day where she doesn't have to be the queen of anywhere, or anyone's princess, just a girl in Brooklyn, suits her just fine after months in the yellow press and on gossip girl every day and twice on Sunday.<p>

Rufus and Lily are going to be away for the rest of the weekend, a small overnight trip to a spa somewhere outside the city, probably to take away the stress of having to live in Brooklyn, and that means they will have the loft for themselves when they come back from their walk, she realizes. When she looks up at Dan across the table she sees him smile at her, clearly having come to that conclusion a few split seconds before her. Something to look forward to. Something to get her through a day of Dan talking about Brooklyn nonstop.

She goes into his room to get ready for the "day out", ties her hair back, applies some make up and then looks at herself in the mirror and the girl looking back at her is... so very different than her usual self. She turns sideways in those jeans, she is still wearing the flannel shirt though she has tucked it in to make it look slightly less crazy lesbian and slightly more urban girl, and she has never looked less like herself, less glamorous and less… well, less Blair Waldorf. She won't be able to leave the house looking like this, like the people she always thought less of. Dan walks up behind her, puts his arms around her waist and kisses her neck, whispers into her ear "you look beautiful" and then grins at their reflection. And for a moment she sees it. What he sees. A beautiful girl, a loved girl, a happy girl. And then it is gone and she is back to seeing a frumpy version of herself. "Dan, this isn't me!" she whines and he sighs, but tells her he understands and if she will feel more comfortable in her gown, she should just change. "I don't care if you go naked Waldorf, just get ready! Actually... naked wouldn't be so..." she gives him a playful punch in the gut and he bends over, holding his stomach, and says, his voice thick with fake pain "There you go, you are already acting like the tough transsexual you are dressed as!"

She finally decides to take the shirt off (how did she not know how soft flannel feels? And yet this would be a secret she would never share with him, ever, but that shirt may be her new secret robe) and to wear her cardigan and shoes with the ugly top and jeans. He waits on the couch, reading a book, and when she joins him he says "Glad to see that adding a sweater only took you 90 minutes." But then adds with a half smile "You look perfect." And opens the door for her.

It is probably the nicest day of the spring thus far, with a sky so blue it hurts to look at it for too long and the sun shining intensely, the soft breeze being a welcome addition for once. They start walking and his hand slides effortlessly into hers, their finger interlacing and it feels a little strange, to be walking down a street, hand in hand with Humphrey. Yet at the same time, it feels like that is the way it should be, his thumb softly grazing the back of her hand as he rambles on and on about Brooklyn and its importance in world history. He points out every landmark ("a tree is not a landmark, Humphrey… it is just a tree! Even if it grew in Brooklyn!"), has a story for every street corner, most from books, or what she can only assume must be wikipedia, but every now and then one of them will be personal and Blair listens more intently. It is strange to think that she has known him for this long and is only starting to really know him now. His stories tend to be about how his family used to play football here at thanksgiving for years before his mother moved away (a mother he very rarely if ever mentions, Blair realizes) or in which dingy little bar his father had one of his very first gigs. When he starts talking again about the battle of Brooklyn she interrupts him, to let him know that she would rather be chased by the British all the way to New Jersey than hear him tell yet another boring detail about this damn battle. He laughs at her. "Never ever would you go to Jersey! You'd rather let them shoot you, Waldorf, before you left Manhattan." And she has to admit that he is right. "Jersey" she says and shudders theatrically for him.

The place he wanted to take her turns out to be the weekly farmer's market and Blair has to admit that she has never really been to one of these. She wonders aloud if this will be like the movies, if the cheese and olive vendor will tell Dan with a thick Italian accent that it is lovely to see him with such a beautiful _signorina_, after such a long time of him buying his olives all alone. Dan laughs and admits that no, the olive vendor does not in fact know Dan's name, nor does the flower lady or the baker. And the only accent they have is a Brooklyn accent, if that. And they wouldn't know if Dan came alone or with a harem of 45 ladies. "They see a thousand people every week, Blair." "And you are right, you are not that memorable" she adds. "But I bet the person who sells syrup remembers you… I mean the Humphreys must be the highest waffle consumers in all the state." "Actually, in the tri-state area!" "Well what is the point of a farmer´s market, if nobody knows you, then? It is just an open air supermarket then." She points out to him and he shakes his head. "Oh Blair. You really thought this would be like the beginning sequence in the Beauty and the Beast, huh?" She shakes her head back at him. "Humphrey, your knowledge of cartoon princess movies sometimes worries me! Anything you want to tell me?" He spins her around to face him and then very seriously says "Bonjour, good day, how is your wife?" in tune and they both can't stop themselves from giggling, like two idiots.

He buys a loaf of bread, tomatoes and olive oil, as he is planning to make her bruschetta, and in an attempt at romanticism he buys her a big sunflower. She tells him that sunflowers are in fact not romantic at all and he says they are to him. They actually remind him of her. Bright. And beautiful. And they always stand tall. And she holds on to her sunflower thinking that maybe, just maybe, he is right this once. Maybe the sunflower is romantic.

They continue walking, hand in hand, talking and laughing and she cannot remember having had this much fun lately. Especially not with a boy she was dating. She was always trying so hard to be exactly what her boyfriends wanted her to be, needed her to be and she feels that in all that she lost who she wanted to be, who she needs herself to be. She tells Dan about wanting to go back to college and finishing it, about finding another internship, one that is about what she would enjoy doing and he listens and every now and then she catches him looking at her that way that makes her feel self-conscious and special at the same time. He tells her, he thinks she can do whatever she sets her mind to, he believes she can be anything she wants, but he is also the voice of reason, asks her which courses she would have to make up, how long she thinks it will take her, if she will manage to finish college in time or if she will need an additional year, where she wants to apply for internships. And eventually he asks where she sees herself in 5 years, in 10 years. She laughs and answers "not in Brooklyn" and he grins back at her.

On the way back to the loft they don't talk, just walk, their hands intertwined, enjoying each other's company in silence and she thinks of all the things he asked her, where will she apply for internships? Will it take her an additional semester or an entire year to complete her studies? And where does she want to be in 5 years? Or in ten? The soft breeze is getting stronger and her hair is being blown into her face. He casually reaches over and tucks it back behind her ear. The sunshine on their backs is still warm enough not to wish for a jacket and suddenly she feels like she is able to breathe better. Like she was holding her breath a little bit her entire life. She doesn't see herself in Brooklyn in 5 years, but would it be so bad to be here then? She looks at him, lost in thought, his curls a hair catastrophe, biting his lower lip as he is, no doubt, coming up with some ideas for another story, another book maybe. And she smiles to herself. No it wouldn't be. It wouldn't be bad at all.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:I am sorry it took this long, I kind of forgot this story was there, started writing part 3 and then got writer's block and then life happened… but here it is, the final chapter, as promised. Thank you for enjoying it.**

Chapter 3

She sits on one of the barstools watching him put on an apron ("flowery apron huh? Manly, Humphrey!") and he holds up another equally flowery apron. "Help me?" She shakes her head. "I am no good in the kitchen. Dorota won't even let me come into the kitchen when she is cooking." He laughs and shrugs, then switches on the radio and begins to chop tomatoes to the rhythm of the soft pop music. She remembers her father in the kitchen, how he knew exactly what he was doing, how it looked like he was dancing some choreographed kitchen dance, confident and happy. And she recalls the way he would pick her up and hold her tight in front of him so she could stir the sauce. His little sous chef, he called her and she never felt more proud of herself, or more safe, or more loved. She bites her lip and before she says anything she thinks if she wants to share, those moments feel so personal, so hers and so private. Sharing might be spoiling them, might taint them. Dan, lost in his chopping and the music, does a little awkward step-step-ball change and then looks up at her and blushes a little when he sees her watching him from a couple of feet away. A giggle rises in her throat and on a whim she tells him. She can't quite get herself to look at him as she explains how it felt, to feel so perfectly complete and protected. Something she hasn't felt since. He listens intently in silence and then brings the apron over and tightens it around her "well, "sous chef" let's see if you are still any good". He hands her a knife and some basil. "Chop!" She rolls her eyes and starts chopping. "You are bossy. My daddy was never bossy." He grins, puts his knife and tomato down, then grabs her by the waist and kisses her neck until a little groan escapes her involuntarily. "I am not your dad. I am me." He whispers. Then let's go of her and adds "Bossy me! Chop woman!"

The food is good, the bruschetta is crispy, the tomatoes ripe and juicy and they share a glass of white wine ("can we not each get a glass, Humphrey?" "No, this is way more romantic!" "Romantic? Sharing germs?" Ok, I'll get you another…" "Never mind Humphrey, it is too late now!"), then they move over to the couch. He quietly points out that they are all alone and as excited as she is for this rare occurrence, they have waited so long now, they might as well wait until she doesn't feel this full. He nods and spreads himself out, his head in her lap and mumbles "naptime, then" as his eyes fall shut. She trails his eyebrows with her finger, the curve of his chin, already slightly stubbly, only hours after his shave, takes his earlobe between her thumb and pointer and softly strokes the soft skin. Every part of him is warm and inviting and… hers right now. His breathing is rhythmical and she thinks how he makes her feel; how she did not expect this from this particular boy at all, this boy who was such a nuisance in high school, so much the opposite of what she ever wanted, of what she expected from life. But she had everything she wanted and expected from life and it wasn't right. It felt like a dress that looks beautiful on the shelf but doesn't fit quite right. Too big in some places and too tight around the waist. Hard to breathe in. But he is like these jeans. Comfy, low key, nothing special to the observing eye. And she fears secretly, maybe like these jeans, he is just something she borrows for a little while and cannot be herself in. Today has been so nice, but is this her? Can this be her? She has always seen herself as… well, more. More than just a plain girl going out with some plain boy, living a plain life. She looks at him, plays with his hair carefully not to wake him. He makes her feel the opposite of plain though. He makes her feel special. How absurd is that? That a prince would make her feel inadequate, her, Queen freaking B, and this… well pauper doesn't really work as a word, because paupers don't have multi-millionaire stepmothers, but this regular boy makes her feel like the luckiest girl in the world. So darn absurd!

Her legs are starting to fall asleep under the weight of his head and she knows what she would say if he was awake ("how can such an empty head weigh this much?") but he is asleep and she doesn't dare to move him off of her. Must be love, huh? she thinks to herself and then gasps a little, surprised by her own thought. The L word, the one she didn't say to Chuck for nearly a year of sexual games and heartbreak. The one she knows can break her. She has been running from it ever since he hurt her worse than she thought was possible, she wouldn't allow for someone to get to her core, because if you do… well, "L" someone, then you will get hurt. Invariably. And you lose a piece of you. And there can only be so many pieces, until you are broken beyond repair. After Chuck, she is determined not to let anyone take any more pieces, she doesn't have enough of them. And suddenly all that warmth she has been feeling all day has left her, she doesn't feel special and safe anymore, she feels anxious and scared. The sun has sunk and disappeared and the room is starting to become immersed in the grey light of the approaching evening. Is it too late to run?

Suddenly he moves in her lap, turns his head towards her. "Hey" he grins, then sees her cloudy eyes. "Penny for your thoughts?" he murmurs looking a little worried. She shakes her head, fighting the urge to push him off her and leave. He sits up, his look questioning, his eyes full of sympathy, takes her into his arms and pressed into his chest it all suddenly blubbers to the surface and she starts to talk. Between sobs she tells him everything. Things she never told anybody, things she thought would make everyone realize that she was less of a person, things she was ashamed to even think about. How she never felt good enough, how Serena was always better and how she felt guilty for feeling jealous. How putting her fingers down her throat made her feel like she was able to control life just that little bit, when it was all coming apart at the seams. How she felt after Chuck sold her for his hotel and how no amount of searing hot showers would make her feel clean again. How scared she felt when he punched that window and glass rained down on her. How the little cut on her cheek could never compare with the giant gash inside of her. How she knew nobody would ever love her for herself so she became the person Louis would love, afraid at all times that someone would see through her and see the broken, damaged girl inside the princess. How love has never brought anything but heartache. When she is done, the light is even dimmer, the front of Dan's t-shirt is soaked in tears and she feels empty. Cathartically empty. He looks her in the eye and when she averts his gaze, he takes her chin and lifts her face to meet his eyes again. "I am sorry." He whispers. "But I knew most of that. Not how it felt for you, but I knew it happened. And I have known you at your worst. I have seen you be awful, hell I was who you were awful to most of the time. And I have seen you sad. And I _know_ you. And I still love you. Because you may not be able to see it right now, but I see it. How beautiful you really are. Inside. If you could only see yourself through my eyes…" he smiles and caresses her cheek and the warmth is starting to come back, a little spark lights in her belly. "you'd be amazed, Blair." He whispers the last words and kisses her ear lobe. "You would be so amazed." He sits up a little straighter and kisses her forehead. "If you don't allow yourself to be happy, to be loved and to love, well, then you won't. Love, I mean. But you also won't be happy." His kisses trail down her neck and the warmth spreads through her chest. She closes her eyes and when he grabs the seam of her t-shirt, she lifts her arms above her head, inviting him to take it off. She unbuttons his shirt and then lies back, lets him cover her in kisses, while the warmth keeps its slow advance through her arms, her legs and into her head. He is gentle at removing her jeans, at freeing her from her panties, at undoing the tiny clips of her bra. Once she is fully naked, he leans back for a second and looks at her and his eyes are full of wonder. And of love. And he leans back down to find her lips with his.

It was different. The opposite of a quickie full of hatred and passion on a grand piano. It was sweet and loving and she feels like every one of her cells is singing now. She lies on top of him, her head tucked under his chin, her arms on her sides, her entire self fitting comfortably onto his. He holds her with his eyes closed; his breathing still a little rushed, his heart-beat just a little too fast, his skin smelling of soap and sweat. Her island, she thinks. He is her island. Happiness seeps through her and for once, she isn't afraid of it. Maybe she needed to get all those ugly feelings out, so that this new feeling could fill her, she thinks. He holds her tight and she can feel him smile.

"You, too." She whispers. "You would be amazed, too."


End file.
